HARRY

[Safe and Sound]

DRACO

Harry was glad that even though the building looked to be falling apart, there was still hot water beading down on him from the shower head. The warmth was comforting after the frigid temperature outside.

He looked downwards at the dirt trailing off his body and into the drain. There was so much of it you could have mistaken the water as brown. The sight made Harry's gut turn in frustration. It was his first actual shower in weeks that didn't involve the piercing pressure of a gardening hose. And it was all the Dursley's fault.

Harry had to reason to himself that if they didn't exist, he would have been long dead by now by Voldemort's supporters. Or even by the noseless bastard himself. But there were times in house whether he wondered if that was even a fair trade deal. If he was dead, surely that would be better then beat nearly every day? He would have his parents and godfather again. Hell, maybe even a loving boyfriend.

He could have a loving family, but instead, got stuck with ones that treated him like dirt under their shoe. How on earth was the fair? For anyone? Yes, there was always the Weasleys, but even then he felt like he was intruding on their family when they invited him over for long periods of time. Especially Christmas.

He grabbed the soap and furiously started scrubbing his body until his skin felt rubbed raw. He knew he was free of them, for now at least, but that didn't stop him from wanting to remove every trace they ever existed from his skin. Sadly, a bar of soap wasn't going to be able to do everything. Too many bruises and scars littered his small-ish frame for it to ever return back to normal.

Harry shut the water off when he heard a knock on the door. "Your clothes are cleaned, Potter. If you can consider them such."

He sighed, regretting allowing Malfoy to share a room with him. The blonde git would probably murder him in his sleep and wouldn't even have a wand to defend himself with. If anything, that was probably exactly why he was here in the first place.

Harry quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. Malfoy was waiting there with the clothes in one hand with a small book in the other and reading intensely. He took them gratefully and changed behind the door. Though, he noticed quickly that the clothes had rapidly changed in size. They were nearly perfect in size when Harry when looked at himself in the mirror. The holes were missing from the cuffs and knees of the jeans too.

No matter how used it got the wizarding world, it always found a way to surprise him.

"Who fixed my clothes?" He asks through the door.

"Madame Leverett did. I asked her to shrink them too."

"Why?"

"Why not? They looked dreadful in their state. They still do. Who wears brown with maroon?"

"Not everyone has rich mommies and daddies to give them everything they want, Malfoy."

Harry seems to take the sudden silence as a victory and smirks with satisfaction as he finishes putting the rest of his clothes.

"Surely beats being an orphan crying for his dead parents every night, doesn't it though?"

He couldn't control his actions after that. It happened so fast the other poor boy could barely process what was happening before it was too late. Harry had Malfoy pinned up against the outer bathroom wall with his forearm on his throat, anger clearly written on his face despite the pain from the sudden movements.

"Listen here you twitchy little ferret, mention my parents ever again and I swear to Merlin you'll be stars for a month." He spits, "And magic won't be necessary."

Harry knew he was being slightly dramatic, but again, he couldn't control it as well he used too. He was quick to temper and hard to calm down ever since fourth year. He hated it, snapping people he cared about over the smallest things.

Malfoy sneered back at him. "Then shut up about things you don't understand."

Harry scoffs. "Me? Me? Have you looked into a mirror recently? Because I think you're the one needs to keep their trap shut. Your whole family at that."

"I said shut up about it." Malfoy's hands tightened into fists, undeterred by the calm in his voice.

Harry pulls his arm away. "No, I don't think I will. You don't get to start fights and not finish them. "He pushed the boy's shoulders back for emphasis. "You don't get to decide that."

Malfoy looked down at his feet, taking in the other boys rant. He knew he was in the wrong. Though the words that escaped his mouth were like a foreign mutter to him, an echo of what his father intended him to be, they were very much real.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Malfoy looked up and met the emerald green eyes blazing down on him. It sent daggers to his stomach.

"Yes, I was. And if you don't mind me, I think I'll take this as my leave."

DRACO

"Back so soon dear?"

I groan and walk over to her couch without answering. Making sure my shoes aren't touching, I lay down, taking up the whole couch in the process, and throws my arms over his face.

"Long day?"

I nod slightly, causing her to chuckle. "I've been there too. How do you think I got all these white hairs?" She laughs.

The way she immediately brightened my mood was one of the many reasons I liked Bramble. When I was little, she used to babysit and tutor me when both father and mother were out (which was more days than I liked to admit). She would bake me cookies when I was sad or play with me in the quidditch fields when I was having a bad day. And when I got hurt, she would take time to help heal me herself and not boss around a house elf to do so. How a mother should.

She was the most prominent adult figure in my life up until I was ten years old. Father found out she had been teaching me muggle literature and fired her on the spot. I remember father throwing them into the fire as soon as the door slammed shut. He forced me to watch them crinkle in ash despite the tears that were rolling down my face from losing the only real parent figure I had. It was shortly after then that he started hexing me for stepping even the slightest out of line.

Mother and I still made short visits to her in secret when he wasn't home. Although she still believed in blood purity, mother also believed that it wasn't worth losing a valuable friendship over. Bramble talked quite often to mother even now.

"Do you want to tell what got you so upset? Is it that boy?"

I sighed, "Partly."

"What happened?" She sits down on the couch next to mine and takes a sip from her mug.

"I- I got in a fight. He started it technically...but I said some pretty nasty stuff I shouldn't have. And I regret it. But if he hadn't started it, I wouldn't have been provoked... "

"You still sound like the ten years from six years ago," She chuckles again. "What did he say?"

I shrug. "I'd rather not repeat it. Or really of it really."

She pats my knee. "That's fine my dear. Do you want to quickly Floo your mother to tell your mother where you are? I bet she's worried sick."

"No thank you," I answer a little too quickly. "I owled her earlier."

I was suddenly reminded of my painful reality. She knew nothing of my darkmark on my skin or that father was secretly hoarding Voldemort and the rest of his evil cronies in our house. As far as she knew, I was just as innocent as her in this war.

I felt sick to my stomach for the second time today. If she ever found out, she would never welcome me inside her home ever again. She would hate me beyond wits. I would truly be alone then… The thought made the back of my eyes burn.

"The boy looked familiar. Would his parents happen to work in Diagon Alley?"

I looked around the room nervously. "His parents are dead. You-Know-Who killed them when he was a baby."

She gasped. "That poor thing! If I had known-" she pauses mid-word and her eyes widen. "Wait, he couldn't possibly be...could he?"

"Harry Potter?"

She nods.

"Well...you're correct.

Her tea slipped from her hand and was sent crashing to the floor. She seems at lost of her words. Having lived through all of the You-Know-Who's first era of terror, she knew all about Harry's story. If I had anything to say about it, I would have to say she was slightly obsessed with it. She loved to tell me stories when I was smaller on how one day I might even be able to attend school with him. One of the many reasons I tried to befriend Potter in the first year.

"Good gracious, I'm quite the klutz. Hold on." She grabs her wand and mutters a quick reparo, repairing the cup but not the hot liquid of the floor. She grabs a towel off her cluttered table and wipes the floor clean. She whispers under her breath just loud enough for me to hear. "I knew it…"

"Do tell me if I'm hearing this right. Did you happen to wake up in Harry Potter's room...this morning?" Bramble chokes.

"Yes, I told you about it this earlier. Why?"

"Oh, its nothing dear...just curious dear."

"Bramble..."

She sighs. "You're parents never let me tell you about this, labeling it a day for the foolish, but it was my favorite holiday as a child. Most pureblood family's don't celebrate it. It's called the Festival of Wonder-"

"-That's what the man at the Leaky Cauldron said. The Festival of Wonder. What does it mean?"

"You would know if you let me finish," Bramble scolded.

Draco flushed. "Sorry…"

"Well, where was I? Oh yes. My favorite holiday. As you know, when I was younger we didn't have much money so both my parents were always out working. So every year on August twenty-first, I would look outside my window and look outside my window and hope to see a shooting star."

I thought back to that night and shivers down my spine. The day I tried to fight getting the dark mark and ultimately failed.

"But not just any shooting star...Cassowary's comet. The brightest one is the sky."

"Did you ever see one?"

"How do you think I met you, silly?" She laughs and reaches over to ruffle my already messy hair. I smile warmly back at her.

"If you're blessed enough to see it, you get a miracle. All the lost souls get one."

"Okay….why is it called Cassowary's comet then?"

"Well, all good holidays have a backstory. There's a reason why most of the sightings end in love. It's rumored that there was a very lonely man who was madly in love with a maiden named Cassowary. Unfortunately, this maiden has married to a very mean man already. He tried to get her away from her husband many times, but she was far too brainwashed by her husband to believe him. Then one night, while he was sleeping, the lonely man managed to sneak in and kill her husband in his sleep. The next day, the wife woke up and was distraught to find his body. She killed herself three days later in despair. The man found her and took her to a wizard who turned her body into a star so she would live long in memory and heart."

"...Bloody hell. That's a children's story?"

"No, it isn't. But it's tragic and that what makes it beautiful."

"How is suicide is beautiful? Why is it being romanticized? It...terrible. It's ruthless, dark, and scary. A contagious disease that eats away at you until finally there is nothing else left. Nothing. How is that romanticized?"

She looks taken aback for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe its the idea of loving someone so passionately you feel nothing without them. It dangerous falling that deep when there's no one on the the other side to catch you."